


This for That

by Sed



Series: Favors [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Casual Sex, Coming Untouched, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Quickies, Sex for Favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: Shaw has done a favor for Flynn, and now he has one he would like to ask in return.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Favors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087751
Comments: 15
Kudos: 116





	This for That

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea popped into my head last night, and I made my friend stay up late so I could talk about it. I figured it was only just that I should stay up to write it.
> 
> Proof I am actually capable of writing a straightforward pwp and (fingers crossed) not turning it into a series.

“You wanted to see me?”

Shaw turned away from the salt-stained glass and dropped whatever papers he had been reading onto his desk. “Yes, Captain Fairwind. Come in.”

Flynn entered the cabin and shut the door behind him. “Just got word from Cyrus that I’m set for another three months,” he said. “I take it you spoke to Wyrmbane for me.”

“As you requested. And it was my pleasure to do so, Captain. You have been an asset to our efforts in Kul Tiras, one small favor is hardly an imposition.”

“Well, space is at a premium around here these days,” Flynn said. He felt awkward, thanking the man for pulling strings so that the _Middenwake_ could remain moored in Boralus Harbor. Especially since she remained there at the behest of the Alliance, and it had been the Alliance who wanted to give her the boot. As if they didn’t have enough bloody ships choking the sound already. “Nothing small about a favor like that.”

Shaw hummed in agreement, distracted by some letter he had picked up.

It seemed their little exchange was concluded. Flynn hesitated, half-turned to make a break for the door, but something stopped him. It just didn’t feel right, taking a favor so neatly. He cleared his throat and said, “If you ever need anything in return, I’ve no idea what I could offer you, but—”

“There is something you could do for me.” Shaw added the letter to the pile of papers and looked up, finally meeting Flynn’s eyes. “We have been in Kul Tiras for eight months.”

“Feels like I’ve been here all my life,” Flynn quipped. When Shaw didn’t laugh along with him, he coughed into his hand and nodded. He should’ve known better, really. Something about the man simply unnerved him. He was too… rigid. Too quiet. _Too cold_. Flynn could handle a bruiser with fire in his belly any day of the week, but coming up against a man like Shaw, a man he couldn’t read, was often unsettling.

“Eight months is a long time to be away from home,” Shaw continued. He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. A study in composure. Frowning, he added, “A long time to go without certain things.”

Flynn pulled up straight. Now that… _That_ sounded like the preamble to a proposition. He narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“I’m sure you can guess my meaning.”

Oh, he could guess. Flynn felt heat rise under his skin, the start of an embarrassed flush that crept across his brow and burned his cheeks. Sex for favors had never been his trade, but it had been on the table often enough that he knew better than to be surprised. Still, a man like Shaw?

“Never figured you for the sort,” Flynn muttered. “Should I be flattered, or is this a habit of yours?”

Shaw shook his head. “I have never asked this of anyone, I can assure you. And if you choose to say no, the slip will still be yours, your answer will change nothing.”

Nothing, perhaps, but Flynn’s perception of the man. It wasn’t that he respected Shaw any _less_ for asking; true enough, the Alliance had been haunting this particular port of call for the better part of a year. Shaw might be his king’s eyes and ears, but those senses were far more attuned to relevant matters than personal interests. It made sense, in an awkward, mildly uncomfortable sort of way.

“So, you’re looking for a—uhm. A hand? With something?” Flynn sighed at himself and rubbed his eyes. It was possible _mildly_ was a bit generous. “Or a—a—tides, man, just tell me what you want!” he finally snapped. Actually _being_ fucked by Shaw couldn’t possibly be as bad as all this.

“Well, I…” Shaw hesitated. It was the first time Flynn could recall ever seeing him come close to nervous. If he had harbored any doubts about Shaw’s honesty regarding his tendencies, this awkward and frankly embarrassing display put those fears to rest.

“Look, Shaw,” he began.

“I would like to suck… you…” Shaw muttered, pouring out the words and then letting them fade away slowly as he stared at something in the far corner by the floor.

Flynn gawked at him. “Pardon?”

“…Off.”

He really hadn’t meant to laugh. It was just so sudden, so incredibly surreal, that the sound had burst from him, gracelessly filling the cabin with what was likely to be the last noise he ever uttered, if Shaw’s unhappy grimace was any indication. He couldn’t be serious. “You can’t be serious,” he said aloud. “This is a joke, right?”

“Not a joke, Captain,” Shaw answered quietly.

Flynn stopped laughing. “You want to… Me? Really?” The rest of him finally caught on, and he stared numbly for a few extra-long seconds before reaching for his belt buckle and attempting to wrench it from the leather. “Yeah, yes, I don’t—why am I even thinking—of course, I would be—this won’t come off, I don’t know why it’s so—aha! There it is!” He tore at the front of his trousers until he could wrest himself from the confines of his underclothes, and only _then_ did he think to stop and actually consider the situation logically.

“This… is… Did you mean right now?” he asked, voice pitched high and a bit breathless for his tastes. He searched Shaw’s eyes, looking for some sign that he hadn’t just made an utter ass of himself. Again.

But Shaw was no longer looking at _him_. His sharp, bottle-green gaze had locked itself onto Flynn’s hands, currently holding his cock, watching it stiffen with every passing second. Oh, he was serious. He was _very_ serious.

“Sit down,” Shaw commanded.

Flynn looked for the closest seat, finding it was the one behind Shaw’s desk. He made his way over to it as gracefully as he could manage, noting the way Shaw’s eyes followed his every move, and fell back into the leather with a grunt.

He had been on missions with the man before, and he had seen the speed and agility with which he could move, but that had not actually prepared Flynn for having it turned on him. Shaw was on his knees and between his legs in less time than it took to blink, and Flynn still hadn’t fully arrived at the truth that what he could see and feel was really happening.

Shaw hadn’t been exaggerating. Not his desire, not his need, not his _interests_. He pushed Flynn’s hands away and dove down over his cock, swallowing him so quickly that Flynn accidentally bit his own tongue trying not to shout. It was like watching a stranded sailor choke down water for the first time in days. Like Shaw was _hungry_ for it. And tides, did it feel incredible. It was clear Shaw had perfected skills the Alliance leadership knew nothing about, else they’d have put him on the negotiating table and ended the war ages ago.

“I’ll—ah—I’ll tell you when I’m about to come,” Flynn panted, fighting not to wind his fingers into Shaw’s copper locks.

Shaw pulled back from his cock and looked up, gasping every breath, his eyes dark and his eyelids sliding indecently low. “Don’t bother,” he rasped.

Oh. _Oh_.

With a groan, Flynn let his head fall back against the chair and gave in to the urge to touch. His fingers twisted in Shaw’s hair, and it earned him a hum that vibrated down through his cock and directly to all the most sensitive nerves in his body. He could feel the faint scrape of teeth, the tongue that slid back and forth along his length every time Shaw bobbed his head, the firm, wet heat when he hollowed his cheeks and really _sucked_. It battered his senses until he was left grunting, panting, rutting up mindlessly into Shaw’s mouth from below while Shaw swallowed him whole from above. He felt fingers clawing at his thighs, and glanced down to see that Shaw had fisted the open front of his trousers, grasping them tight as though he desperately wanted to pull Flynn closer.

There were so many things Flynn wanted to say. _So, this is what Stormwind’s infamous spymaster does in his spare time? Finds a friendly sailor and stuffs his mouth full until he chokes on it?_ Filthy words, fantasies and scenarios his mind supplied while Shaw bruised his own throat with Flynn’s cock, each more obscene than the last. He half-muttered praise, stroking the back of Shaw’s head with his thumb while he listened to all the lewd little sounds, slick noises, and eager, muffled moans that escaped him.

“You weren’t joking,” he said, breathing out the words as a heavy gust of air before pulling in the next breath. “It really has been a while, hasn’t it.”

Shaw nodded, humming, “ _Mhmm,_ ” as he twisted his neck and went at Flynn from a slightly different angle, somehow forcing him deeper. He replaced his lips with the circle of his hand and sat back on his heels. “Thank you,” he panted.

Flynn didn’t know what to say—what _could_ he say?—and so he just mumbled, “Get to it, then,” and gently pushed Shaw’s mouth back down on his cock.

Fortunately, Shaw did not seem the least bit bothered by that. Quite the opposite in fact.

The heat of his mouth, the slick slide of it over and all around, was pure bliss. Flynn had his chin shoved hard against his chest, watching each time his cock disappeared past Shaw’s lips. He brushed back the hair that had fallen across Shaw’s forehead, and inadvertently drew his attention.

If seeing those eyes fixed on his when they were still standing on either side of the room had been intense, then seeing them while Shaw was in the throes of his own kind of ecstasy was something else entirely. He made a show of slowing down, savoring every inch of Flynn’s cock, drawing his lips along his length until he could rest them against the head, and then bore down on him again as fast as before, all without breaking that incredible eye contact. Flynn cursed and bit his lip. This was going to end all too soon for his liking.

“You enjoy this, don’t you,” he husked. “Not just sex, not some tawdry little tryst—you like _this_.” He lifted his hips, shoving himself further into Shaw’s mouth as he started to pull back.

Shaw moaned around him, and Flynn let out a gusty sigh. He couldn’t have been happier to hear it; there was something thrilling about finding this secret detail of Mathias Shaw’s life. Something he kept hidden from everyone around him. The truth that the flinty, stoic spymaster liked to have his mouth used, his throat pushed open by a thick cock, lips stretched around it while he grunted and whined and tried to get every last inch that he could. He was _insatiable_ for it. And even if Flynn hadn’t been told not to bother, the last thing he could have managed in that moment was groping his way to the words he needed to warn Shaw that he was about to come.

The spymaster, quick as ever, simply clutched his thighs with that iron grip, adding a pinch of pain to the pleasure, and took every dizzying pulse. Flynn twitched and shivered, fingers sliding over Shaw’s scalp and massaging his cheeks, dipping low so he could feel himself pressing on the walls of Shaw’s throat. When at last it ended—and it seemed to go on forever, by his account—Flynn’s arms fell limp at his sides. His head dropped back against the chair, and he silently thanked the Tidemother that he always made sure to answer his messages in person.

Shaw drew back with one last, languid suck, making Flynn’s thighs tense and his stomach clench. He was an absolute mess, despite having swallowed everything he was given. He glanced at Flynn, and then quickly stood, crossing the room to retrieve what appeared to be a towel.

“Mind passing that over when you’re done with it?” Flynn asked lazily. He couldn’t move. It wasn’t even a matter of not wanting to: he quite literally _couldn’t_. His whole body felt as though Shaw had somehow sucked the energy right out of him. Maybe he had.

Shaw made a quiet, assenting noise and turned away as he wiped at his face and, to Flynn’s surprise, much further down. When he turned around and tossed the towel to Flynn, there was an obvious wet spot spreading across the blue fabric beneath his armor.

“Just from that?” Flynn asked incredulously. He wiped himself clean and looked for a place to set the towel. The desk seemed… wrong. “Don’t misunderstand me, I’m impressed. And more than a little proud.” Although it was clear that Shaw’s enjoyment had come primarily from the act itself, not necessarily who it was with. Still, he had chosen to ask Flynn. That had to be worth something.

Shaw cleared his throat. “I did say it had been some time, Captain.”

“Aye,” Flynn chuckled, “fair enough.”

Unfortunately, things took an abrupt turn toward awkward after that. Flynn tucked himself away and set his trousers in order. Eventually Shaw came and took the towel, still without making eye contact, and Flynn wasn’t sure why that was so disappointing to him. He felt the weight of the tension swirling around them like a thick fog, and something told him it was time to make a neat exit while he had the chance.

But even as he crossed the cabin and reached for the door, his hand just grasping the latch, he stopped. Shaw was back at his desk, poring over his papers as though the last fifteen minutes had never happened.

“If you ever…” Flynn began, finding the words felt strange, but _right_ as they rolled off his tongue, “find yourself feeling alone, like this, you can come find me.”

Shaw glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

“Anytime. Alright?” Flynn pressed on. “Don’t need to do anything for me, before or after.” He shook his head. “Didn’t need to this time, really. Though I appreciate that you did. And it doesn’t have to be… this.” He would have happily returned the favor, he realized. It was as much of a surprise to him as it likely was to Shaw, but that was the truth, plain as day.

Shaw was watching him openly by that point, a strange, contemplative look on his face. More open than Flynn was accustomed to. It wasn’t quite as unnerving, and he found he liked that. “Good day, Captain,” he said, inclining his head briefly. It wasn’t quite the answer Flynn had been hoping for, but he supposed it was the one he should have expected.

“Right. Well, see you around the harbor,” he muttered.

“Captain Fairwind.”

Flynn turned back from the door, pulled partway opened on an empty corridor, blessedly free of anyone who might overhear whatever it was Shaw had to say.

“I will keep your offer in mind,” he said. “For next time.”


End file.
